Line
by yeyavailability
Summary: BR: Bakura knows Ryou's face. In the boy's sleep, he had traced it over. Does Yugi know it just as well?
1. Light

I've been waiting to do a stress relieve fic, since so many people do it but I usually just break the keyboard.

Disclaimed. Not the story, though. Ze textness is mine.

* * *

_Light;_

* * *

"Ryou," he purred, rolling the cell phone slightly over his fingers as he held it to his ear. Modern technology proved to be over half as useful as the mind link they once shared, he mused as he waited for an answer. No powers now. Just…mortal. 

For some reason, it was fine. He was waiting for Ryou to pick him up. They would go eat something together, Ryou had said. The restaurant was far. Gas was expensive.

It was such a childish, juvenile thing to look forward to, but yet his heart beat faster. He felt special - in a strange, almost embarrassing sort of way - that Ryou would spend all that money. On_ him_. He craved it. He hadn't slept in class all day.

There was a hitch, then a light shuffle - the messy handling at end of the other line caught his attention. Then there was a laugh.

Bakura frowned. _He's with someone?_ A small pang of panic, humiliation, remembering the way he'd purred into the phone.

Another laugh rang through the receiver, and it wasn't until a few seconds later that someone finally answered.

"Hey Bakura," came Yugi's voice.

Bakura stopped in mid stride.

"Ryou's driving right now. He asked me to get the phone, so he'll call you back later, okay? Bye!" Yugi hung up, not giving Bakura a chance to talk.

Bakura stood there, dumbfounded, watching the way the grass crumbled beneath his shoes. Students swarmed around the open field, all laughing. He heard none of it. There was a short moment of nothingness until his feet finally stepped forward.

It was a long way home.

He took the longer way back.

-

He'd been fumming as he walked, steps too fast and fists shaking in the hide of his pant pocket. He arrived in record time, throwing the door open with a growl from the back of his throat. With trembling fingers, he gripped the width of the door for a moment before slamming it close.

_Ryou always picks up._

Shaking, he threw down his bag, waiting to hear the resounding crash. It came and echoed through the fragile walls of the halls -

Not good enough.

_Even when he's driving. _A weird pull tugged at his heart, but he ignored it, focusing on his rage. _Even when there's someone else there._

It was a hot day in summer. He couldn't stop sweating. Ryou usually turned on the air conditioning for him, knowing he didn't know how to operate it…

_Where d__oes Yugi go in this?_

His movements were awkward, jerky, almost tearing the fabric as he pulled them off himself angrily. Changing into more comfortable cloths was a routine, but it wasn't right. Ryou should be there. Downstairs, at least, waiting for him with that _stupid_, _stupid -_ smile on his face. Before returning to school from summer break, they'd spent the most time together, but now that they were back at Domino -

_Where do __**I**_ _go in all this?_

Of course, Bakura admitted to himself - Ryou would prefer Yugi over him. A friend or a psycho? It wasn't that hard to choose.

There was a fumble at the door. Despite himself, Bakura ran down the stairway, disgracefully tripping over his feet when he got the bottom. Once he was stable, he - hid immediately in the shadows. _Yugi..._ He clenched his fists, short nails digging painfully into the flesh of his palms.

_Over __the fucking_ _half of your __**soul**_.

When the door opened fully, Ryou's presence lacked the usual greeting – only a laugh. Two laughs. Directed to each other. Bakura didn't greet him either, shifting purposely from his position at the corner of the wall, giving Ryou every chance to notice him.

Yugi laughed on, hand in Ryou's as they continued up the stairway.

He'd taken none.

-

It was nine-thirty.

Bakura hadn't done any homework – not that he ever did. He'd just copy off someone else the next morning and come back with the right marks. Ryou would smile at him...

He stared up at the ceiling. It was a blank, boring white. He'd been looking at it for hours.

Waiting.

Yugi still hadn't left.

After a few more minutes of nothingness, he'd had enough. He trudged into Ryou's room – the one that they never used anymore. It wasn't old, or dusty, but Ryou never went there because he'd always watched the moon with Bakura until one of them fell asleep from exhaustion.

There were giggles.

Right away, he could tell they were Ryou's; melodic and simply beautiful. Pure.

"I love you," came his voice, still giggling. Bakura reeled back; it sounded so right for him to say.

Bakura knew they were playing. They had to be. He _knows_ it. At least, he thinks he knows it…

Quietly, he opened the door, watching through the stream of light his own Light and the pharaoh's sitting on the floor, colourful cards scattered in the middle of a game board. Yugi saw him, then Ryou, who waved and looked surprised while Yugi invited him to sit down. Their giggling hasn't stopped, he noticed - no, that would have been too obvious. Instead, the laughter mellowed out and faded away into a nervous ending. Bakura stayed at the doorway, feeling inferiority creeping into the back of his subconsiousness.

He didn't belong there.

"...Yugi," he started, voice unsure, if not a bit shy. _What the hell are you still doing here? Don't you have your own Other to run back to?!_

Confidence waning, he continued. Meant to. Nothing came out.

He stayed at the doorway.

"Are you thirsty, Bakura?" Ryou inquired softly, making to get up. Casually - too soft, too familiar. Had he not just _ignored_ him the whole morning? Bakura gripped unintentionally at the hemline of his shirt, an odd familiarity settling in his chest; Ryou was treating him like a guest. Bakura felt cold.

"I could help if you want!" Yugi chirped, energetic as always, getting up also. His and Ryou's actions were not simultaneous; Yugi's jumpy, Ryou's graceful – but somehow, they felt whole. The smiles on their faces glowed with different brilliances, but everything they did was so horribly _right_ together -

Suddenly, he understood. He'd almost stumbled out the doorway, blatantly avoiding their direction as he spoke. Strands fell over his face and hid his expression from view. "Don't stand up," he ordered – powerlessly – "you…didn't have to. I'm not thirsty." He turned and fled, hoping his voice did not quiver as much as his lips did, heart thumping painfully in his chest.

_What are **you**_, Yugi's eyes had read, and Ryou's had completed the sentence; _still doing here?_

He'd almost felt guilty for interrupting their perfect moment.

* * *

Light

* * *

Being rewritten because I'm never up to rereading my pieces of crap - I procrastinate to the point of not doing things at all, such as reading over for mistakes. But! Now I shall! And...yeah. I'm actually going to edit my things! I might even develop rough copies! 


	2. Weak

Right. Just wanted to clear stuff up since I so smartly forgot to do so the first chapter:

All of the Ancient Egypt people (not Marik since he's…not) are basically immortal. Kind of. They do not age, but they'll die when their former host does, returning to their respective items until the next host comes along. This is why Bakura goes to school, forever at sixteen (though he'll move, of course - as the first chapter implied they'd spent summer out of Domino), and Ryou drives a car, at twenty one. Yugi is also twenty one. Pharaoh is sixteen, and Malik is twenty two.

But yanno, since they're mortal they can somewhat laspe into oblivion if they get into accidents.

* * *

_  
Weak;_

* * *

When he awoke, he could feel tears streaming down his face. 

He didn't know why, or how, but the – nightmare, was it? – was already fading from his memory. All he knew was that there was no blood, no fire, no screams or Kuru Eruna, but another sort of pain that hurt almost just as much.

He let out a cough. A steady burning at the back of his throat flared, blemishing the raw muscles. He did it again. The pain was more intense this time, scratching. Had he been screaming?

_Ryou must have heard me._

He didn't understand the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards, or the lack of panic settling in. The great King of Thieves, crying and screaming and waiting for his Light to come comfort him as the little child would ask for his dead mother. It was ridiculous – but what good is a king if he had to live on the streets?

_Eight, seven, six__…_

Hands shaking at his sides –

_Any moment now._

- anticipating, almost wanting –

_He could hear me crying…_

Ryou would open the door and ask, in his weak, girly voice –

_Five, four, three...two…_

"...Are you okay, Bakura-kun?"

His head snapped towards the doorway.

..._one._

"...Yugi…"

The boy yawned, rubbing his eyes to rid of the forming tears. _Sleepover?_ _They're twenty-one... _Bakura shifted in the shadows. He hadn't wiped off his own.

Ryou wasn't there.

"Ah…well, I kind of heard you screaming…if you're okay, though…"

Bakura bit his lip, clenching his teeth before he spoke. "I'll muffle it with the pillow, if that's what you want." The pillow was soaked.

It wasn't a joke, but Yugi laughed anyways. It had nothing to do with humour or amusement, just like he shouldn't have had anything to do with Ryou.

"Goodnight, then!"

Bakura watched as the boy walked away, the brightness of the hallway blinding him. Yugi had forgotten to close the door.

He stayed on the bed, unmoving, for a long while. He cloaked himself into the shadows, not for intimidation but safety -

_If I leave, Ryou might come in and see the tear tracks…_

He didn't want to admit what he was waiting for, or who. A heavy clenching in his chest set off more tears. He wondered when he became such an idiot; Ryou was asleep. If his screaming hadn't woken him up – assuming he was still asleep and wasn't merely ignoring him – than there was no way he would miraculously appear in front of him.

He shifted out of the shadows, hissing when his bare feet touched the freezing floorboards. _Egypt used to be cold at night._

His mind quickly snapped back to Ryou.

He sped to the washroom, splashing his face in the freezing water. Only when his face was as numb as his fingers did he finally stop.

-

When his hand touched the doorknob, there were footsteps.

Soft and quiet; light, padded. Slippers. Ryou wore slippers.

For a moment, he almost thought Ryou was there to comfort him, but scowled to himself as soon as he registered what it meant. _Don't be an idiot. He's only here for the washroom._ A wry smirk stretched thinly across his cheeks. _The washroom over me…_ It disappeared shortly; never really having been there in the first place.

Outside the door, there was a shuffle of feet. Bakura's hand did not move from the doorknob.

"...Bakura?" came Ryou's voice, timidly. Bakura suddenly hated the way it sounded. So innocent, uncorrupted.

Fake.

His front was on. He had been awake for quite some time.

Anger bubbled inside him, but for the first time none of it threatened to go up his throat. It stayed there, in the pits of his stomach, not fluttering or flipping but _there_. It sickened him, but he stayed still.

"What," he demanded, with even less power than before. He almost flinched at his own voice; he shouldn't have trusted himself to speak.

"Bakura?" Ryou asked again, apparently not having heard him. There was something off about the way his voice dropped first, then wavered – Ryou was irritated, not worried. _Focus on the rage,_ Bakura told himself.

Ryou's tone did not change as he continued. "Are you okay?"

_Why ask things you don't care about?!_ Bakura screamed inside his mind, trying not to shake. Why care about things _he_ didn't care about? What didn't matter, shouldn't matter…

"I'm fine," Bakura replied gruffly, a bit faster than he should've if he were telling the truth. Some part of him hoped that Ryou wouldn't buy it. _I'm not okay, _he wanted to say - _I want you to stay with me._

"What are you doing in there?"

Anger took over swiftly. He wanted to kick open the door and just _hit_ him. Ryou had such a pretty face…

"Nothing!" he hollered – meant to, but something in his voice cracked with the force and he ended up whimpering instead. _Humiliation._ He focused on the emotion he had been ignoring in favor of the rage, and was able to open the door slowly, with only slightly shaking hands. Ryou stepped out of the way.

"Here's your fucking turn," Bakura snarled, stomping into his room. He'd turned away too soon to notice Ryou's expression, but he felt the stare and knew it meant nothing too pleasant.

It wasn't until he slammed the door to his bedroom, sobs curling up his throat, that he realized what the emotion was.

He fell asleep with his head to the wall.

-

Bakura walked home from school. His eyes did not meet Ryou's probably welcoming smile, nor did he think Ryou was smiling at all.

"Why were you in the washroom?"

_The first thing he says…_ Bakura dropped his bag onto the floor, bringing out his books if just for a distraction.

"I needed to use it," Bakura muttered, poking at the crinkled papers beneath his books. He listened as they crumbled under his palms, trying to seem more casual by staring at Ryou instead of his bare feet. _I wish he'd drop the subject already,_ he thought irritably, though half of him wanted Ryou to continue pestering him unnecessarily. If being interrogated about the washroom was the only way he'd be paid attention to, then he'd willingly talk.

Ryou stared down with a frown on his face. It took all of Bakura's will power not to look away and blatantly avoid his disapproving gaze. All he did was go to the washroom, what was the big deal?

"_Alright_," Bakura growled, seething. Ryou stayed silent.

Bakura hated how he couldn't dare to continue opposing him. "Fine," he snapped, if not a bit too softly, "I won't take so long next time," Ryou's eyes seemed to narrow, but Bakura looked away before he could decipher the truth.

"It's not that," Ryou started, then paused. "Stop twirling the pencil, Bakura," he asked – no, commanded. A skip interrupted the pattern of Bakura's regular heartbeat, but he knew it was for all the wrong reasons.

He didn't drop the pencil. "First you make a big deal about me being at the washroom, of which I have all the rights to be there, and now you can't stand me playing with a piece of wood and lead." Against his best interests to pretend he was still immersed with the stationary, he held the pencil still in his hands and held back the last part of his sentence.

This time, Ryou really seemed to glare – it showed clearly in his voice. Bakura was almost glad he wasn't looking. "And _you_ couldn't stop _glaring_ at me yesterday just because Yugi was here!"

Bakura sat still.

It was after a moment that he felt something fall and crumble inside him. He felt so...wronged? Was he wronged? Did he deserve not getting the blame.

_You fucking **hypocrite**..._

"It had _nothing_ to do with the pharaoh's brat," Bakura snarled, standing from his chair and stepping defensively back, feeling the wall behind him.

Ryou was waiting for an elaboration.

_**You**__ kept ignoring me,_ he wanted to say, scream, _**you**__ forgot what you promised. I had to walk home, I hadn't eaten all day. You didn't tell me Yugi was staying over, you said __**nothing**__ and didn't even __**look**__ at me, how could you just go and say things like that when I did __**nothing wrong**_

"Bakura…" Ryou said, almost warningly.

_You wouldn't even answer the phone._

Bakura slumped back onto his chair, not quite defeated, but angry. Under the desk, he clawed at his legs, connecting old circles of scars. He couldn't break down - not in front of Ryou. He needed some stress relief. If he was the only one he could hurt, then be it. He needed something sharp, but the scissors were on top of the desk. He wanted to bleed a swear onto the sheets –

_All this because of a missed phone call._

He admitted, if just to himself - that it wasn't a good reason to get mad, if valid at all. He sagged further into the cushions of the chair, fingernails wrenched deep inside his flesh. Still shaking. It still felt so wrong.

He didn't look up when the door slammed, signaling Ryou's leave. Abandonment. Was he going to Yugi's?

_Ryou's happy,_ he told himself, gritting his teeth together when he realized he'd been gawning on his lip pathetically, _I love him, I'm happy._

He ignored the ache.

_I love him._

_

* * *

_

Weak 

_

* * *

_

It pains me, really, how I can't even edit properly. Some can turn the whole fic greater, but I just added punctuation and changed a few words and sentances. How very sad.

Good news, or something. I'm almost done typing up the last to chapters, so when I finish editing these there -shouldn't- be long, long waiting for the next chapters.

Review so I know what to change for the better. Just don't say 'stop writing completely' ;D


	3. Sorry

Wow, it's like...not Christmas! Happy school skipping and present getting if your mentality or physical attributes says you're under eighteen!

Now to rid you of all those exaggeratively happy exclaimation marks:

I just realized that italics take up plus-five-percent of the space normal text do. It's even more lethal than bold. And. If you've read this before I've squished chapter four with this one - this chapter was crap, and the next chapter was the first one purely for stress relief, meaning it was also crap.

Short bit of emo towards the middle, so skip it if you feel like laughing.

* * *

_  
Sorry; _

* * *

Ryou's voice was unnerving. 

"I'm sorry about yesterday, Bakura," he'd started – _drop, then waver _– "I don't know what came over me…"

Bakura stayed silent as Ryou trailed off. What was he supposed to say to that? 'Thank you for humoring me, I love it when you lie'? There was no apology in Ryou's tone; no attempt in his words. _Why fake it when you aren't even trying?_

"...There's a restaurant, south from your school."

Despite himself, Bakura's heart skipped an off beat, trying not to expect anything until Ryou further elaborated.

"If you want, I'll take you there. Are you hungry?"

He came out disappointed anyways.

_Giving me a choice, or helping yourself?_ Ryou was expecting him to say no... "It's fine," he said shortly. Ryou would have the ultimate decision; he still felt so cold, unsure whether or not he wanted to spend time with his Light or not. It didn't really matter, though - it all came down to whether or not _Ryou_ wanted to spend time with _him_.

"Is that a yes or no?" Carefully soft; deceptively light. _Irritation._

"…It doesn't matter."

A sigh this time. "When you make up your mind, call back, okay?"

...Call back?

He wouldn't need to…he lived there. It was a common mistake, but unrealistic in this situation...was Ryou kicking him out?

"Bye, Bakura."

"...Bye…"

He'd spoken to the beep of disconnection - Ryou had hung up already. After a moment of silence, he flipped close the phone.

_Was Yugi there?_

Quickly, he flipped open the phone again, punching in the numbers as fast as his fingers could let him. The ring sounded on for minutes.

Finally, there was a click. Bakura pressed the receiver to his ear urgently. "Ryou, I – "

"_You have reached…"_

-

Nighttime arrived.

Homework scattered over the desk, the chairs, as usual – most of it crumbled. Bakura waited for Ryou's call.

He growled as his stomach did, shifting slightly in his chair, limbs numbly aching. It was seven. He hadn't eaten lunch today, having forgotten the money - he'd sneezed when he ran. He was in no condition to steal.

He played with the phone in his hands, gripping it with shaking white kunckles whenever it rolled too far off the end. He'd called Ryou's cell seven times already, counting each failure. _If he really wanted me to call him back, he wouldn't have __**left**_. Anger dissolved and melted down into misery. _He should at least turned on his phone…how much obvious can you get?_

At the sound of a ring, Bakura snapped his head to the phone. _Ryou? _He let the sound continue on for a short while, if just to reassure himself that it was real. After two more rings, he hurriedly flipped open the cover, wishing that Ryou wasn't annoyed for the wait.

A short silence buzzed as Bakura waited for Ryou's voice. _Talk to me…_

"…Bakura?" Ryou said just as Bakura realized he was supposed to speak first.

"Ryou," he said at the same time as a result.

"…Bakura," came Ryou's voice, a bit too firm for his liking – "I'm staying over at Yugi's today."

Bakura was silent. Ryou took that as a positive – or he might have just been ignoring any opinion – and continued, a familiar but distant affection settling over his voice.

"I just thought you'd like to know, before I left…"

_I'd like to know…?_

"...Bye, then, Bakura."

"Wait, Ryou –!"

There was a resounding click, then a moment of silence before the hitch of disconnection. Bakura sat still.

_Will I regret this?_ He asked himself, holding the blade over his arm. He had never done this before, not in this body, but it will be permanent and he will have to live with it for the rest of Ryou's life. He will have to keep this dirty secret away from his Light's dear eyes…

_Yes, I will, _he thought. The blade paused in coming down.

_I will regret this._

The pain hurt, as it should. The cut burned and bleed, waves of agony seeping through his veins –

It was the only thing that was right. This was what he should feel.

_I'm sorry you miss him,_ a voice mocked, _but he's gone._

The worst thing was – he wasn't even surprised.

-

When Bakura awoke, he could vaguely feel stickiness around the edges of his eyes; the sheets beneath his cheeks felt the same.

He looked at the blankets, covering the floorboards, and the pillows adorning it. He rolled off the bed and fell asleep there.

Minutes later, he found himself awake again, the backs of his eyelids and a pounding headache consuming his sight as he blinked. Blindly, he grasped for the phone.

"Ryou," he muttered into it, paused, then pressed the required numbers.

He waited.

He didn't realize it when it stopped ringing, monotonous beeps going strait through his head. Only when another phone in the house rang did he realize he was doing anything at all.

Slowly, Bakura picked it up. "…" he spoke into the receiver, still not quite awake.

"Hey, is this Bakura-kun?"

Bakura nodded.

"…I guess so, then. It's me, Yugi…"

"…Yugi," Bakura repeated, interrupting the other's speech, not realizing that he had spoken outloud.

"Yeah, it's me," Yugi replied, confused, but continued. "Anyways, I was saying…"

_I want you to fucking __**die**_

Yugi's voice trailed off. Bakura gripped the phone, waves of anger rushing through him. His actions raced faster than his mind, though, as only one thought was there –

He jammed his palm onto the phone, scrambling the keys. "Where the fuck is Ryou?!" he demanded into the reciever, the fact that it was disconnected left unrecognized.

As if to answer him, there was one ring before the line reconnected.

"_Ryou,_" Bakura hissed, fists clenching and shaking. He could hear the light breathing on the end of the line, and the way it hitched before words were spoken.

"What's wrong?" Ryou asked – he sounded annoyed rather than curious or worried. Bakura could hear it so well; was Ryou even trying to hide his displeasure?

"…Nevermind," Bakura muttered, trying to hold back a growl. It came out harsh and defensive anyways.

"…Then what do you want, Kura?"

"I don't fucking know!" Bakura yelled into the phone, unable to relieve his sudden anger. He had wanted to know when he was coming back, but now he just wanted to be alone.

"Bakura –"

"_Nevermind,_" he seethed, hating Ryou's voice and his tone and himself for wanting him so _badly_, missing his lies when he slammed the phone down. He shook violently, standing alone in the hallway, unsure of his place and purpose but angry enough not to care. He waited for his breath to fall, calm _down_ - but every passing second he just couldn't _stop_.

_I don't fucking __**know**_

He clenched his teeth as he walked randomly to the window, watching the cars go by and hoping they would crash, hoping Ryou was in one of them. His heart beat wildly in his chest - inside, he took it back.

_what the fuck I'm doing what do I **want**_

Gripping the handrails, feeling the wind against his face – was this how it felt like, when all those humans prepared to fall? Suicide. He knew what it was – but the thought of escape, _escape?_ - just felt too good. He could always just leave through the door, but that wasn't as fun. He didn't really want to die, but…

He looked outside once more, gaze unfocused but staring all the same. The wind was cool and strong. People, tiny, pathetic little humans, walked slowly on the pathways, holding their arms to their faces to block out the wind.

_I want them to__ fucking __**die**_

He opened his mouth in a silent scream and _shook_, imagining the world bursting into flames before his eyes. He watched as the trees fell, as the people screamed, melting, and the building in front of his collapse. Before, he wouldn't have cared – anyone but dear _fucking __**Ryou**_ – but now he meant it, loved the feeling and hated it in his anger.

He dug his nails into his arms, watching as the blood dribbled down and –

Washed away?

Water? Rain? Was it raining? It had to be -

_Tears._

He was crying? Was that natural?

He dug deeper and allowed himself to cry. As long as the anger didn't leave, crying was okay. Crying was…

Ra, he missed him…

-

By the time Ryou came home, it was eleven thirty, at night. Bakura was slumped on the couch, stomach audibly growling, but having no appetite to satisfy it.

Ryou took this time to hold a grudge.

He dropped his bags onto the floor neatly, heading up the stairway with an air of calm. The door closing was barely heard, but Bakura could hear it – quiet, reserved. Ryou was probably turning in for the night, Bakura realized, as the sounds of the shower running reached his ears.

He was so fucking _hungry_.

_No sympathy, then,_ Bakura mused, staying in his spot on the couch. It was sweaty from body heat and he was uncomfortable in it, but he didn't move. He stayed there the whole night, waiting for Ryou to come down.

Some time in waiting, he had fallen asleep. When he awoke next morning, starving and pained, he realize he was on the floor. The house was quiet, empty as he shifted, his aching muscles protesting any movement.

_He could've at least awoken me…_

He kept his eyes closed and tried to fall back asleep. The sunlight seeped through the curtains, and its glare reflected off the floorboards - he lay on his back, and beneath his eyelids it was red. He thought of Ryou's laugh and his expression as the blade slide out of his heart. He dreamt, smiling slightly, of Ryou's amusement when he slid to the floor and stilled in the pool of blood.

_If it makes him happy…_

_I'd like to die to his smile._

* * *

Sorry

* * *

I. Can't. Edit.

If anyone's wondering – yes, there _shall_ be some plot here. Except that it happens after all this shit (I'm trying not to give a spoiler), and I've actually began typing out the final chapters, because I have problems. So now I must somehow link it to those…ugh. Good thing though, because they shall be more happy, which means I can write it without being mad (and therefore no abuse of the keyboard).


	4. Ugly

Hate the fact that you'll never be able to throw tomatos at me. I'm not going to make an excuse for the lack of just editing because I'm a procrastination whore and there wasn't any actual deadline for this. I don't want to edit something when I have no desire to - selfishness aside, the end result will turn out better (and so will my keyboard). I think.

This shall be the chapter in which the authoress actually makes a plot for. I was so proud of myself.

* * *

_Ugly;_

* * *

The clock ticked from behind the tiled wall. Bakura did not turn on the lights, but the crack from the doorway shone off the surfaces, his reflection watching from every angle. Bakura knelt, head down by the toilet seat, and even there he could image the miniscule detail of the last bits of vomit rolling out from between his lips – it hit the surface with a small plop, and just for a moment Bakura loved how he was so incredibly disgusting already. 

_Need to…ask…I_ –

By the time he finished, the seat was covered in both liquid and vomit droplets, his throat aching raw. At just the sight, he felt the need to blanch again, but held back.

…_clean up first…_

He looked at the mirror, at the room, at the tiles on the walls and the floor – all clean, blinding white – gazed a bit longer at the near-unrecognizable toilet seat, the only thing with colour, however disgusting it may be –

…_Ryou first._

Bakura walked out of the room, slowly, giving the ugliness one last look before completely turning away.

-

"Hello?" A pause, a shuffle. "Bakura?"

Bakura waited for the buzz to die down before answering. "I – yeah…"

A long pause this time, not one of silence, but of anticipation. Ryou's voice hitched before he spoke, but didn't drop – Bakura found that it didn't need to. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

_The first thing he asks…_ Plagued by a sense of déjà vu, Bakura repressed his anger and focused on the question instead of the implement. "It's…" he looked at the clock, squinted, then realized the answers lied on the calendar and looked there instead. "…Friday…" He looked away, unsure.

Ryou's sigh came with no exasperation, but somehow that was worse. "Bakura…" he trailed off, almost emotionlessly. Bakura shifted in the worrying calm.

"I – I'm sorry," he blurted, feeling slightly better but for all the wrong reasons. He knew, though, that Ryou's reply wouldn't be any different…

As he expected, there was a pause. _Thinking of the worst thing to say…_ He was almost scared when he heard the hitch.

"…Sorry for what, Bakura?"

"…I…"

He didn't know. Ryou knew he didn't know, he had to – and that innocent, genuine question hurt the most. Then again, Ryou probably knew that too…

There was a sigh. "Bakura," Ryou said, sternly – "if you don't know what you're sorry for, then why are you apologizing?"

_Fear._ Anger rushed into his head, and he held on to it like a lifeline, scared of the underlying fright. "I'm _sorry_," he said again, and if Ryou were here he'd get down on his knees; "I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry, and –" resolve rapidly dissolving, he continued with haste – "I'll threaten and beg and cry if I have to…" then, in the smallest voice he could muster… "Ryou…"

More pauses. Indecision? The best way to kick him under?

Bakura's heart skipped a bit when Ryou spoke, nervous and afraid and angry all at once.

"…Do you mean it, Bakura?"

Bakura took less than a moment to answer. He had no second thoughts. "Yes."

Ryou stilled then, breathing a bit too soft and just a little too low. Bakura's earlier mood worsened, wondering if he had done something wrong –

"…Good."

…_Good...?_

"That's good, Kura." Ryou repeated, a little more clearer. "I'm sorry for holding such a grudge for you…I don't know what's gotten into me these days…" Bakura could almost hear the smile in his voice. _Happy or victorious?_

"…Thank you," Bakura muttered incoherently, the words a foreign shape but not concept.

Ryou's breathing was uneven and fast. "Would you like to have dinner with –" there was a pause then – and when Ryou's voice zoned back, it was slightly lower. "…me?"

_Yugi,_ Bakura's mind identified, understanding Ryou's disappointment easily. This time, though, he made sure he answered fast – _You're not going to back out of this again…_

"Yes," Bakura breathed, quickly, anxiety starting to clog in his throat as soon as he spoke. He tried coughing the feeling away, but it was persistent. "Yeah…" Bakura repeated with less confidence, but enough to make sure Ryou heard.

He could hear the stillness of the other end of the line. _Probably thought he'd have a chance to call it off…_ He smirked to himself at his victory, but felt angry instead of triumphant. The smirk died down instantly; never really having been there in the first place.

Finally, there was an answer. "When would you like to leave?"

_When will you want me to leave for good?_ "…Five?"

A light exhale; the sign of a counterfeit smile. "Isn't that a little early for dinner, Bakura?"

_Can't you put it off until later, Bakura? I don't want to see you yet. I don't care if you haven't eaten in days. _"…I'm kind of hungry…"

Ryou laughed then, his voice only slightly strained. "If you're hungry, then we can go right now. What do you say?"

…_I thought…_ "O-okay…" he bit his lips, trying to hold down the rapidly forming smile. He put down the phone slowly, resisting the urge to scream in something akin to joy. _Volunteering to…sacrifice time…_

_For me…_

His smile dropped then, and he blinked.

Ryou must have done things to his brain. When did he start lying to himself?

-

It was about fifteen minutes before five. Bakura jumped at the sound of something jamming at the lock of the front door. _Ryou?_ He thoughts, and wasn't thinking clearly enough to dismiss his thoughts. The…happiness, was it? – was new and overwhelming. He pretended not to notice when Ryou's footsteps – louder than usual – neared. He pretended to do his homework when the sounds stopped in the doorway of his room, anxious and scared and excited all at once. His scribbles made no sense, but he couldn't find himself caring even when he realized he'd been writing in ink.

Finally, Ryou spoke.

It wasn't what Bakura was expecting. "You hung up on me."

Bakura froze, not dropping his pen but balancing it on his fingers, unsure of its place. _The first thing he says…_ More déjà vu, but he was getting weary more than mystified.

Ryou continued on. "You didn't even do it correctly; the lines were all messed up. You put the phone on the stand, not halfway off the table.

"Not like you haven't done that about ten million times yourself," Bakura growled – wanted to, but all he managed was a weak sound of insecurity.

"…Sorry," he muttered instead, looking at the floor. Ryou wasn't imposing, and would never be – he was the one growing inferior.

After a moment of silence, Ryou sighed, chuckling. "Oh, Kura…" he said, sweetly, "It's not your fault. It's just that cars are so frustrating, you know?" He gave a small, delicate shrug, lips almost twitching upwards. "Broke down." Then he smiled, and it was sweet and sweet and all _wrong_ – "Let's just go to dinner."

Ryou was never commanding. He could never be a leader, never be able to order people around…

"…Okay," Bakura said, slightly lifting his head, staring at Ryou's face above his beneath his fringes of hair, "I'll…get changed…" He shifted uncomfortably. "…Sorry…"

Ryou smiled, but didn't say that he was forgiven. Bakura watched him turn out the room, and it was a minute before he finally stood up.

He stared hard at his closet, unable to fathom a reason for doing so but too out of it to care. It was as if he could see through it and pick out the correct clothing once he has it open – though took him a moment to realize he was supposed to open it at all.

-

Bakura did not slouch as he walked; his back tensely strait and eyes set forward. His lips were pressed into a thin line, legs stiff and knees almost never bent. He didn't know what he was feeling right now, but Ryou – walking beside him, just being there – it felt _wrong_.

Ryou's smile was bright, innocent, and seemed the most genuine. _Is Yugi coming after all?_

After all…after all, Ryou wouldn't be happy with just him, would he?

"What are you waiting for?" came Ryou's voice, "Go in, Kura."

Bakura stared forward, not comprehending. Just like that? Wasn't he going to wait for someone else?

"Bakura…"

He jumped, extremely startled when Ryou grasped his hand and pulled him inside, heart continuously thumping even when the surprise was over. It was barely seconds later when Ryou let go – the cool air brushing his fingertips, then crawling up his hands, sending him an unpleasant chill – he'd already missed the touch.

-

"The waiter's waiting, Bakura," came Ryou's voice, softly, but a bit too edgy to hold a whisper. Bakura knew that tone by heart, and knew what was to come after.

"…Rice." It was the first thing he'd spotted that he could read, and one glance at Ryou's awkwardly worried gaze – _so annoyed already?_ – told him he'd make another mistake. He skimmed the menu, once, twice…five times in total, and only now has he started noticing anything it said. "Um," he started, "the… lasagna…"

He hadn't realized he was mumbling until Ryou took the dignity to repeat his words for him. "One lasagne and a small meal three spaghetti please," he said, smiling lightly at the waiter. Ryou's smile did not drop when he went out of sight, and Bakura felt an unreasonable jealously when it twisted into a frown instead.

"Why didn't you order something a little different?" Ryou asked. It didn't come as a surprise; Bakura knew the disappointment was going to be directed to him – "We could've shared our meals."

Bakura's head snapped up at that, almost sure he had heard wrong. Ryou waited – with no genuine patience – for his answer from across the small table, and Bakura found himself wishing it was a little bigger and stretched across the opposite walls. He looked at the pale beige table cloth, and found his own skin not a shade darker.

"Sorry," he muttered, unsure if he wanted it to go unheard or not. Only when he lifted his head could he see the hurried beginning of a smile.

He looked away so that Ryou wouldn't have to force anymore expressions.

-

Bakura didn't like the food.

He ate hazardously, unbelievably starving after two day of neglecting his hunger. The tomatoes tasted bland on his tongue, while the steaming heat of the dish burned it. Still, he continued eating, if only to satisfy his hunger and show Ryou his appreciation for the meal.

He looked up, only to see Ryou frowning.

_At me?_

Ryou's eyes trailed slowly from Bakura's plate to his mouth and back again, his features creasing deeper with every look. Occasionally he would turn back to his own meal, but then he would stare with that repulsion again…

_What? _Embarrasement. **_What are you staring at?!_** Still, he slowed down, taking smaller bites and slightly leaning back until Ryou found something else to direct his disgust at.

As time progressed, Bakura felt more and more uncomfortable, both physically and mentally. His stomach churned; it wasn't a whole lot of food, he still had at least half his lasagna left – but eventually he put down his fork and excused himself, an odd, nauseating feeling burning at the pits of his stomach and up his throat. _Run away, run away..._ He did not feel Ryou's stare, and he didn't know if he was glad.

He couldn't rush to the stalls in time. Barely just having gotten through the door, his stomach constricted painfully, once – Bakura's body lurched forwards to the sink. His hands grabbed the the edges, but his hair flew into the mess.

He sobbed as he retched, chest heaving and head pounding in his ears. His throat burned but he couldn't stop – the mirror was right infront of him. _Don't look don't look don't look,_ he told himself, but stared helplessly forward. He looked into the mirror, watching himself cry.

_Ryou..._

The only thing that would hurt more would be Ryou's face, staring in complete, utter abhorrence –

"…Bakura?"

Bakura's reaction was slow. He turned, cheeks flushed with reddened tints over blue, drool and rot rolling out his lips and down his chin as he watched the expression of disgust reform on Ryou's beautiful face. He looked at him with wide eyes, searching –

"…R-Ryou…" he choked. The vomit tasted like the tomatoes he ate. He couldn't speak properly – not until he swallowed it. "...I..." The light stayed at the door.

No sympathy. No concern.

The vomit came back again, and he cried harder than he ever had before.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Ryou fled the room.

-

It was a bit over ten minutes when Bakura finally came out, and all the way back to the table his feet shook as he walked. Ryou stared at his food, looking up when Bakura arrived.

There was a moment of silence. Neither had any appetite left.

"Sorry," Bakura blurted, the words jumbled and angry rather than apologic. Ryou may have understood, or he may have not bothered to, but he smiled anyways and looked as if he'd accepted it.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Kura," Ryou reassured, tone suggesting he had spoken the truth. Bakura looked at the way his smile twisted unnaturally, the way he set his jaw and grit his teeth together to maintain the form. He wondered if this was the last time they would go out together.

He felt worse when the waiter came, taking away their half finished plates of food with a light frown on his face at the waste. Bakura wasn't ashamed, not really – but rather, scared of the way his cheeks still heat up, looking up at Ryou with uncharacteristic guilt.

"Sorry," he said again, wishing he had at least stolen some money for them to spend.

Ryou didn't look at him as he took his time fumbling with his wallet. By the time he finally took out the correct bills, Bakura knew Ryou just didn't want to force anymore smiles.

"It's okay," Ryou comforted, in the least assuring way possible – his hair covering one side of his face, head tilted downwards in his make believe search – "let's go, Kura."

When they got to the entrance, Bakura almost wanted to go back in.

The walk home wasn't as interesting as the walk to; it was just as quiet, if not more with the silence of the night, and Ryou's indifference was unnerving. If Bakura closed his eyes and imagined, ignoring the moon beyond the buildings, he could pretend they were having a romantic stroll under the artificial lighting of the street lamps.

_Ryou…_ he closed his eyes and held back a sign, letting his light's footsteps guide him.

_I'll miss you…_

* * *

Ugly

* * *

Whoo cliff hanger. Not really. I don't know. Mm, I love talking about artificial lights. Screw the nature, we have technology. 

Yeah. I'm a bit unsure about that part with the car since the only time we're reminded Ryou's driving at all is in the first chapter. If it threw you off, tell me and I'll just delete it.


	5. Fake pretty

Early edit for the loss! What the fuck. My half brackets. My freaking half brackets! God, I'm scared to touch my summary, who knows if the resave would kill my halfbrackets?! Anyone tried it? FFnet have mercy on our formatting! Goddamnit screw you!

You didn't read that. Insert happy face here, yes? Yes.

* * *

Fake pretty;

* * *

Bakura gripped at the handrails, trying not to tremble. There was no wind or busy streets to stage his fall, but that was just as well; he did not appreciate voyeurs at his death. Vaguely, he wondered if they would laugh, unless he's not worth even amusement. His grip loosened, and his heart skipped – his arms were shaking and numb by his side. If he'd let go – 

"Bakura?" Ryou's voice filtered through the paper thin walls, footsteps padding lightly as his voice drew closer. Bakura tensed, gaze frozen forward. Outside the door, there was a shift; Ryou has waited long enough.

There was a click somewhere, the sound of the door and a sudden gush of wind hitting against the hinges of his window – two clicks. Ryou shook at the door once more – Bakura felt something stop, and he fell backwards, crashing onto the floor with one arm behind him. Not a click this time. He kept his mouth open in a gasp, trying not to hiss.

As Ryou shifted outside the door, unpleasantly confused, Bakura stood and lowered his gaze to the ground twenty-two floors down. The night continued on in a comfortable silence below him.

"…Yeah," he finished lamely. He stood by the window, unsure. "…you can come in now."

Ryou opened the door, giving him a practiced smile – purely on reaction. Upon spotting him, Ryou's grin widened – a sudden, uncharacteristic action. "Would you like to go somewhere tomorrow, Bakura?" he asked, enthusiasm almost disturbing in its honesty. Bakura took this in slowly, as if not quite understanding.

"…With me?" he asked. Confirmation meant the world to him right then.

Ryou smile dropped the tiniest bit, and Bakura was almost sure he'd reject the idea with the opening he gave – but the act did not drop. "Of course, Kura," Ryou started, if not jokingly, "you're the one I was asking. I need your permission to go with _you_."

Bakura did not believe a word of it.

"The cinema?" he found himself asking hopefully, void of all thoughts about watching movies.

"Sure!" He heard Ryou agree. "We can decide on the movie tomorrow. Goodnight, Kura!"

_I don't believe you, _he thought, absently pulling at the blinds, _I don't, not a word, you, you_ –

He snuggled deep into the covers and grinned like an idiot.

-

The drive to the theatre was oddly comfortable in its silence. Bakura could see Ryou's slight smile from the rearview mirror – he sat in the back, not yet daring to invade the space at the front. That spot was reserved for Yugi…

…Who Ryou hadn't even talked about.

Hope lifted into his chest, almost sparkling in his eyes. The uplift was nearly painful in its sincerity.

"We're here," Ryou announced cheerfully, unnecessarily, and Bakura wondered if he knew he had been watching him. Ryou smiled sweetly at the air and stepped out of the car, rounding its edges to go the right direction. Bakura regarded him almost suspiciously.

"What are you waiting for, Kura?"

Bakura wanted to know too. Was it dangerous, always waiting for some one else to arrive and take your willing light away?

"Bakura…"

There was a faint, almost imperceptible brush of fingertips against skin, then the flesh of a palm over his. Bakura stumbled forward and entered the theater in a daze, clutching onto Ryou's hand awkwardly as he lurched inside.

-

They'd chosen a romantic comedy – Ryou had – shy, giddy glances and flirtatious hints that Bakura could not find humorous. He sank into the plush, velvet chair, glad there was a wall behind him and not someone's feet or a spilling bucket of popcorn. He and Ryou were sitting at the back row, quietly.

The women on the screen tripped over a chair. Bakura snorted while the crowd laughed and cheered. He looked over in boredom.

Ryou's lips had twisted upwards, faintly smiling, as if at the women's misfortune. The flashing artificial lights played over his childlike features, casting shadows and unnatural colours eerily on the light's innocent face. Lining the stairway edges were specks of a steady yellow glow, so completely dazzling in its falsity. _They fit together, _Bakura thought dazedly, _Ryou and the lights. _He had never seen anything more beautiful.

When the movie finished, Ryou's face appeared flushed. He had the healthiest grin etched into his mouth, eyebrows curving upwards in silent delight. Bakura's own face mirrored his blush, turning shades.

"Did you enjoy the movie?" Ryou asked, out of genuine curiosity for his opinion. Bakura's restrained grin almost slipped out of hold.

"Yeah," he'd admitted, for he'd never been able to appreciate his stunning light this close before. Ryou's cheeks puffed out when he smiled, and Bakura craved to push them in.

* * *

Fake pretty

* * *

Mm, I love talking about artificial lights. 

I'm almost scared to say that this chapter was horrendously disappointing, since people are going to agree with me. Well. It's not my fault I can't write fluff (yeah okay shut up) – not that I was really trying for it, I wouldn't have been successful. The hardest thing on earth to write good is about people being happy, there's only so much things you can say. I don't think writing a_nd then a warm, fuzzy feeling developed inside him_ would be a good idea for this fic.

**HEY LOOK CAPITALS IN BOLD.** For those of you wondering, Ryou will probably seem like the ultimate evil to the end of the story - I'm not sure if I will incoperate some of why he's like this in this one, but I know that there shall be a sequel kind of in Ryou's point of view. Kind of, because...you shall know when I get around to typing it. To finishing this, as a first step.

Random note of unnecesarity: When I reread this, I felt that it was so inferior to the other angst fics, but your reviews shocked me in the happiest way possible. Do I get off on making you feel sad? I never even knew this would provoke any feeling from any of you since real-life angst of someone under eighteen isn't that sad to lots. Just thankyou so fucking much for making me grin like an idiot when reading your reviews. My mood goes up by a million, it can't be natural.


	6. Secret Dirty

This is late! Sue me, fuckers!

I have problems, especially on editing this chapter because it was so unsatisfying and yet I had no idea how to make it better. I actually rewrote this by more than slightly, so be proud! Or don't. I'm sure none of you remembers this story still exists, so if you want backtrack an ending and don't start reading with blanks. I don't think any of you understood that either, but oh well!

* * *

_Secret Dirty;_

* * *

Bakura loved bright colours.

There used to be sand, sand everywhere and on him and in him, and when he'd fallen to the ground there was only more. His cloak, a brilliant red covered and torn with dirt and sand, hung heavily on his shoulders and it was all the assurance he'd needed. He was still the king.

_I'll make you know me and want me and—_

Thieves were not supposed to be noticed. Bakura did not steal things. He took them with need and reason – little things to keep him clothed and fed, large, golden treasures and fallen tombs just to make people know him.

"Do you want to try it on, Kura?"

—_I'm yours—_

Bakura blinked. The sweater Ryou was pointing at was a bright, glowing red, trimmed at the edges with stripes of white and speckles of gold. It looked ridiculous. Bakura reached for it without a second thought, grabbing it out of his hands and holding it to his chest.

"…Yeah," he breathed, somewhat lamely, then headed off to the dressing rooms. Ryou let him go without watching, turning away to pick out clothing for himself.

When Bakura looked at himself in the mirror, he thought that he looked like some dying boy of Christmas. When he walked out, Ryou seemed to think that same.

"You look great," he'd smiled. Bakura grunted and walked back to change, but ten minutes after he came out the shirt was still draped over his arms. They walked with each other to the front desk, and people were staring.

"Are you buying that?" Ryou asked at the cash register, and Bakura could sense his amusement. _Keep laughing at me_, he thought, somewhat distractedly, dreamily – _I want to see your_ _genuine smile_… He wordlessly placed the sweater on the counter and watched as Ryou paid.

"Is that your brother?" The cashier lady asked, if not a little bewildered. Ryou smiled back at her, gathering their bags.

"Yes," he replied pleasantly. Bakura felt something in his chest skip— "just ignore him."

Ryou turned and left, a few bags in hand, posture so absolutely sure. Bakura stood for a moment, dumbfounded – then, silently, he picked up the remaining bags and trailed after his light, a heavier, familiar feeling settling in his chest.

Once they shifted into a different isle, Ryou smiled. He turned to Bakura and cocked his head indulgently with a laugh. "That lady was so…meddlesome." He giggled. "Next time you see someone like that, just dismiss them, alright?"

The heavy weight lifted. Bakura looked away. "I know that," he retorted gruffly, sticking his hands into the pockets of his new sweater, feeling almost unbearable warm in the freezing cold of the frozen isle.

How had he ever doubted Ryou before?

-

"…These are called foliage of…"

Bakura sat slumped forward in his chair, supporting a side of his face with his palm and idly doodling with the other. He sketched a pair of eyes, lips, a face; he wasn't surprised to see that he'd drawn Ryou, but he'd have to erase the picture if he wanted to end the day without the threat of thirty conjoined detentions.

He sat at the back corner of the classroom, away from the window, with no one directly beside him. Sometimes, he'd feel lonely, lifting his head to see all the other students holding hands and giggling around him— but that was just as well; no one could replace Ryou, the only one who could sit beside him, the only one Bakura could ever hope to deserve. No one else would judge his worth, could not…

A shadow peeked over the edge of his desk, pausing, then looming further—Bakura grabbed his eraser.

"Uh, Bakura…san…I was wondering—"

"Go fuck yourself," Bakura dismissed absently, trying to find the right position to hide the vast amount of pictures stretching across the wooden surface beneath him. He hid the eraser in his free hand, trying not to look like anything was happening.

"…Okay." The stranger left, and Bakura waited just a second longer to admire the fantasies before scrubbing furiously. He was the last one out of the classroom.

There was a boy by the corner, head hung down in a hood, blond bangs shadowing his eyes. His skin was dark and looked ridiculous with the leather-blue of the uniform pants—he hadn't bothered to follow all of the rules. Bakura looked once at him, but as he turned he bit his lips—_just like…_ He turned swiftly away, picking up his speed with every step until he was running.

_This is how…Ryou sees me…_

The boy looked at him from beneath his hood and his hair, but had no reason to follow. Bakura kept running until he was sure he was out of sight, but still he darted on.

…_Saw me…?_

The remainder was painful to look at. There was no one inside his head anymore, he assured himself, no one telling him what to do and what to hurt and what to kill… Only Ryou.

—_want you to want me and I'll make you love—_

He did not stop running, all the way back to the house, and his eyes were alarmingly blurry when he saw that Ryou had waited for him there. Setting his face into a more characteristic expression, he stepped fully inside and put down his bags.

"Hey, Kura," Ryou greeted, smiling. He sat on the couch, hand in a bag of unhealthy snacks, eyes to the television. Bakura felt somewhat proud. "How was school?"

"No homework," Bakura answered, and wondered if it would be appropriate to plop onto the space beside where Ryou sat. The Light scooted over, as if knowing, and Bakura tried not to look too delighted when he sat down. Ryou handed him the bag.

That night, they slept in Bakura's room again – Ryou snuggled deep into the covers, and Bakura with a pillow by his side. He gave it a hesitant embrace, hands gripping its silky surface, confident it would be how Ryou's skin felt like. He breathed inaudibly, waiting until he was sure Ryou was asleep; then, he turned, limbs moving slow, and squeezed his eyes shut. Bakura was a light sleeper – he was sure to be awake before Ryou would be. Biting onto his lips, he thought about the pictures on the desk, the silk of the covers and Ryou's body beside him—

—_me—_

The world turned white.

* * *

Secret Dirty

* * *

I just wanted to do something different – everyone says that Kura likes black, but I think he'd wear more outrageous things (like that cloak in Egypt) to stand out, since he seems like the kind to want to be noticed after being shunned for his whole life. Lives. Or something. Did that make sense?

If anyone was confused about the doodling part, yes – Bakura draws Ryou!Pronz on his desk at school. I draw Bakura!Pronz on every desk I sit in at school, so it all evens out. Does anyone else do that?

I figured that since this has an M rating I needed to put something there, and since I can't write true happiness why not write a better kind of joy?

**Next chapter is finally a new chapter!** Now we can all stop ignoring this crap, yay!


	7. Embrace me, Lucifer

So sorry for swearing at you last chapter, but don't get confused because it's my way of giving gratitude. Hurray!

* * *

Embrace me, Lucifer;

* * *

Yugi was standing in their doorway. 

Bakura had just walked back home from school, a messily rolled up piece of paper in his hands. He took the shortcut, eager to get back, eager to see that smile on Ryou's face...

_If he cares_.

Bakura shook his head, frowning at himself as he continued walking on. _He may not be my father, but he'll be proud…_

Ryou wasn't home when he arrived, and though Bakura was disappointed he figured he could wait. _He's probably just late from work,_ he reasoned.

Ten minutes passed, then an hour. Bakura looked worriedly at the clock every now and then, but assured himself that nothing could be wrong. Ryou would've called, someone would've called… Bakura brushed off the heavy feeling in his chest, turning his attention to the vegetables he was cutting. He usually couldn't be bothered to cook, but he wanted it to be a—

"Bakura?"

—surprise.

Ryou had keys. Whoever was at the door was obviously not Ryou, banging on it loudly. The sound was followed by a short jingle of keys, and the creak of the hinges before the door opened. Bakura stayed in the kitchen silently.

He did not see them, but he knew that they were there. Ryou's voice cheerfully laughing with Yugi's, octaves high and sounding so completely perfect together. "That must've been fun," he could hear Ryou comment, and Yugi's childish giggle in reply. "It was amazing," he was saying, "you should've come with me."

The pair passed the arch of the kitchen, and Ryou barely stopped for a smile. Yugi bounced in next to him, grinning. "Hey, Bakura!"

Bakura nodded stiffly back to him, knife in his hands as he stood unsurely, staring at the pair and waiting for them to leave or Ryou to greet him too.

"Bakura," Ryou nodded, a small smile on his lips—_redder than usual, _Bakura noticed. He tried not to be too loud when he cleared his throat, a sudden rush of confusion clogging away anything he might have said.

"…Ryou," He finally answered. Yugi blinked with his huge eyes and walked to where Bakura stood, as if inspecting his actions. Bakura's hands almost shook. _My knife is—right there—but Ryou—_

"Are you cooking, Bakura?" Yugi asked. Ryou stayed at the doorway with his reddened lips.

"I—is that lipstick?" Bakura couldn't help but ask. It was a bright, bright red, and just before Yugi could answer Ryou cut in.

"Let's go, Yugi," he called, and the other happily bounced back to his side where they left together.

Bakura's mind was in a whirl. He couldn't stop thinking of Ryou's lips, which was normal, but this time he couldn't stop thinking of Yugi's either—had they—they haven't, they couldn't because they weren't—

Bakura forced himself to calm down. It was probably just a joke, he reasoned to himself, the way they had been laughing… He looked down at his hands and found his knuckles white on shaking hands, the handle of the knife digging into the wood of the cutting board. He couldn't let go.

An hour later, he'd finished everything he needed to, placing some into different bowls and mixing together the rest. He hoped he was doing everything right—he'd only learned this today in class, and he hadn't paid attention to the teacher until he realized what he could do with the knowledge. He needed this to be perfect—just like Ryou was.

When Bakura placed the baking tray into the oven, Yugi had bounced down the stairway with Ryou following close behind him. "I guess I'll see you then," he was saying, "bye!"

Bakura was waiting for Yugi to leave. He had already announced his farewell, so why was he still there, laughing and joking with his light?

"—Just going to get ready," Yugi said, "how does five sound?"

"Sounds great," Ryou replied happily. Bakura couldn't help but be jealous of the way Ryou had spoken with that casual tone in his voice; Bakura had known him since he was a child. Yugi had only been there after completely _ignoring_ his light for at least a year, so _why_—

Finally, Yugi left. Bakura's attention focused back to Ryou, watching the way he walked back up the stairway without so much as a greeting to him. Bakura's eyes narrowed in something akin to disappointment, but didn't call Ryou on it and turned back to watching his reflection on the oven screen. He looked alright, he supposed—cloned from Ryou's beautiful face, and yet, he'd ruined it so much. He wondered if Ryou was disappointed in him.

_You already know the answer…_

By the time Ryou had come back down again, the cake had finally finished baking. Bakura tried to hide it from Ryou's view when he went into the kitchen for a small drink, waiting until Ryou left so he was put on the refrigerated icing.

Ryou noticed him staring, and it was all he noticed. "I'm going out to eat with Yugi, Bakura," he said, "would you like to come?"

Bakura stood still. "…No."

Ryou took his drink, and he _had_ to have seen the icing—but all he did was continue talking, steadily walking to the dining table. Bakura had turned to follow him, and the cake was in full view.

Ryou wasn't looking. "Yugi just came back from America," he told him, "he's going to be unpacking his things soon, which will take a while, so we're taking today to celebrate."

_Celebrate?_ Bakura thought. _Just for…being back…_Bakura's fists clenched, but he said nothing.

There was a moment of silence. Ryou sipped his drink slowly, and Bakura was watching until he'd finished. "Well, I guess I'll go now," Ryou said, placing his cup on the table for Bakura to clean after him. _I shouldn't have stared…_

"…Wait…Ryou…"

Ryou turned, emitting a small yelp when Bakura wrapped his arms around him loosely from behind, knuckles white and almost shaking. "Bakura?"

"Can you…stay for a bit?"

Giving a small laugh, Ryou shook his head, placing his hand gently on Bakura's and bringing them down. "Doing what, Bakura?" he smiled. "I have to go really soon…"

Bakura didn't look at the clock because he'd been counting the minutes left. In half an hour, Ryou would be gone…what could he possibly do that would take so long to prepare?

Briefly, a name flashed across his mind. His bit down on his words, but continued persisting. "Just for a bit?" His hands were moving upwards until they reached the elbow of Ryou's shirt, barely touching but straining for grip. "…Please…?"

"Bakura," Ryou cut in smoothly, turning to him as if talking to a child. "There's not much time left. I have to go." Then, more forcibly, "Bakura, let go."

Slowly, Bakura put his hand down, clenching his fists. His eyebrows furrowed and he almost seemed like he was trembling, shaking as he breathed. "...Then go," he said darkly, keeping his breath low. Ryou stared down at him, a frown on his face.

"Bakura…"

"Just _go!_" Bakura screamed, shoving through Ryou and the couch, running off. Ryou ran after him, but Bakura didn't look back.

"Bakura!" Ryou called, catching up to him and grabbing his shoulders. Bakura snarled and ripped away from the touch, faltering slightly in his steps before running again. "_Bakura!_"Ryou was screaming now. _Angry that I'm angry at him… _Bakura kept running, tears in his eyes as he fumbled with the lock and yanked open the door. Ryou did not chase him—not when he had someone better to go to. _Replacement, replacement…_

It was freezing out. He could see his breath before him, just barely, vision blurry as he turned a corner. He found a narrow alleyway, and leaned onto a wall, breathing heavily…

He didn't go back home until late into the night, and upon passing the door to Ryou's room he could see the light sleeping.

Bakura's teeth clenched, but as quietly as he could, continued walking to his room.

He stepped onto the carpeted floor and looked around at the mess on the ground. Stepping lightly, he searched for the things he needed.

He was packing.

* * *

Embrace me, Lucifer

* * *

Yay, it's time for some emo! 

I'm asking for a two word review, just a 'good job' and I'll be really fucking happy and get the motivation to type. I hate seeming so desperate like a review whore, but fuck it because I am one. Review count means that there is this number of people that appreciate this and tell me I'm not just spending so much time for nothing. I post a simple question with spell check on yahoo answers and no one even answers those. So please, use making someone's life better to your advantage. If you've put this on alert or something, please tell me what you think, or use that example two word review up there.

There's about four chapters left, I think, then a sequel in Ryou's POV for the person who asked for it. You'll get to tie all the loose ends that are going to be left in this story and know why Ryou is acting the way he is. Tralala!


	8. Wash me away

First off, I want to say that I love you all. I know this is almost customary and a bunch of crap when people say this, but you've made me so happy my grin was slipping off my face. Hope you didn't mind the vast amount of emo last chapter, I was abusing my keyboard.

I wish I can expect that again, but it's your choice if you have something to say. Insert wink smiley here because is retarded.

* * *

_Wash me away;_

* * *

Bakura had a penny on him.

It wasn't his. It was Ryou's, slightly rotted as he'd found it under the dust of the dresser. _It's not a souvenir,_ he told himself, _it's for luck._ If he ran out of coins in his pocket, he would use it as a last saving and he wouldn't be so lucky anymore. But that was okay, he thought. Luck won't kill people.

Bakura still knew the way home. He hasn't yet walked far enough, because he knew that Ryou would only look so far to find him, if just for looks. It was ridiculous; he wanted to leave and get lost and never see Ryou again, he wanted to be good at lying to himself but just the thought of never going back made his heart clench. He didn't want to be so emotional and miss someone who'd be glad he was missing, but the rain was pattering hard and Bakura could feel the drops rolling under his hood and onto his cheeks.

He looked up into the sky, but all was perfectly quiet.

An hour later, when it did actually rain, Bakura was still walking around aimlessly. He was starting to shiver with cold, and he stuck his hands inside the pockets of his sweater. There were still shops open, but Bakura didn't want to go in—Ryou wouldn't take the time. He was already unsure if Ryou would take the time at all, but thinking back home, he realized that Ryou would still be asleep. The rain was growing harder, and Bakura knew he couldn't last. Growling, he gave a sharp turn into the narrow space between two shops until all he could see was a thin strip of sky.

Bakura didn't count the time that has passed. Soon, the shops had closed, and all there was left were the dimming streetlights and the occasional car zooming by quickly. Ryou's eyes were blind to the darkness, and in turn, so were his; his hands were pale and weak. A few hours of being in the rain had left him a sick, dying mess, and suddenly with unbelievable selflessness, he wished Ryou wouldn't come. He knew Ryou fared only as well as he could, maybe even worse. He didn't want his light to get sick—even if Ryou wasn't his anymore.

In the morning, Yugi will go and take care of him. Even though staring at Ryou was _his_ job, he was going to get hypothermia and he was going to die. He knew he didn't have a choice, because this way it was better and sacrifices were always made to please the superior. Ryou was beautiful and beautiful and he made Bakura feel pathetic. But Bakura was pathetic, and that was it.

It was late, late into midnight, perhaps past. The street lamps were flickering; Bakura's knees were weak from staying in a crouch so long, but if he stood he wasn't sure if he could walk.

There was a loud screech of wheels. Bakura jumped from his spot, staring frantically out the safety of the alleyway—

The car swayed towards him.

"_Fuck!_" Bakura yelled, immediately jumping out of the way. The car did not come anymore near him, but it wavered off and on the road. Bakura stepped back, frozen—it showered him with mud and jagged pebbles. Bakura barely avoided eating some of it.

When the car disappeared off the distance, Bakura stood there for a moment before slowly walking back, his mind racing towards a blank. His heart thumped loudly in his chest; his head, tilted downwards, hit the wall first. His breaths came out visible, and behind him he could hear it raining.

Something in his throat caught, and before he knew it he was trembling. It didn't occur to him until now that he could've _died_, been hit by some faceless driver and been killed. He could feel himself being crushed—his bones, his flesh, his lungs—and suddenly, his throat and his stomach constricted all at once. Ryou wasn't there to save him, and he probably wouldn't have. No one else knew he was there, and if he was lucky enough to show up on the news next day Ryou would change the channel. Everyone else might be pitying, but they'd go back to chatting with their friends on the phone or eating dinner with their family, laughing and joking with each other like Ryou and Yugi would be once the scene had passed.

It never occurred to him just how utterly alone he was.

His stomach was throbbing, and suddenly it hurt just to stand. He dropped to his knees and he could hear his own breaths because he was choking on them. The rain was too far from him for him to blame the tears on this time—he didn't want to be crying like this, but slowly he could feel himself letting go because being like this was exactly how Ryou expected him to be. Weak and crying as the last lamp flickered off.

He sat against the wall with his arms around his stomach, hair and clothing wet and sticky from mud. In midst of the pebbles he'd pocketed when the car almost hit him, he felt the smooth edge of a coin.

He retracted his hand immediately. The reminder of it burned into his flesh, and quickly he clutches his hand, seeing nothing but flawless skin.

It was ten minutes later when Bakura looked up again. Strands stuck to the sides of his face, and he could taste the longer ones in his mouth. _I'd like to taste Ryou's hair sometime…_

He wanted to, but he was going to get sick to a disease and he was going to die.

He was exhausted. All of a sudden, he felt anger bubbling from inside his throat, and with renewed energy he spit out the strands. Clawing at his face, he got rid of what still stuck on it, and suddenly he found he couldn't stop. He felt his nails digging painfully into his cheeks, but they sank in and the pressure wasn't enough. One hand flew to get a grip of his arm, both shaking and hurting and feeling so good all at once. He heard an almost silent cling in his pocket, and briefly a name flashed across his mind.

_I have to get rid of this._

Ignoring the burning sensation, he clutched the penny again. Without another thought he brought his arm backwards, preparing to chuck it off into the distance—the muscles tremble, then falter. He dropped the penny with a silent _cling_, and he closed his eyes he could watch it flow down the stream and fall into the drain.

He wanted to sleep. "Good luck," he whispered, then laughed.

-

When he opened his eyes again, it was not yet morning. He felt incredibly tired, and was just about to sleep when he felt the slightest of a touch at the side of his shoulder.

On it, was a fly. Suddenly awake, he punched it—it landed beside his foot. _If Ryou was here, he would—_

He could feel footsteps. He could feel eyes watching him, and he whirled around only to see a cat—an excuse of one, a shaking ball of fur. Bakura turn his attention back to the fly. He squishes it with his bare hands.

The feeling of its insides beneath his fingertips went unregistered to the numbness he only then realize he had. The only sense that he has left is probably sight, he mused—to watch its blood splash up his arm, only to be washed away by the pouring rain that managed to come down from that thin strip of sky. A wriggling leg under his nails stayed there for a few more seconds before disappearing along with the flood.

The cat was still there. It strode unsteadily towards him, staring—glaring?—with piercing eyes on a shivering frame.

Bakura managed a psychotic grin, lifting his hand to flip it off. The cat took this as an invitation and sauntered towards him.

Bakura hissed and inches away; a weak, pitiful sound ripping from his burning throat. "I killed a fly," he told the animal. "It's dead right beside me." He raised his fingers, clean and shaking with cold and not guilt, to its eyes. After a short moment, it turns away and walks on.

Bakura laughs, puffs of breath visible in the cold. He hasn't laughed for hours—it hurts both his throat and the dying thump in his chest.

Bakura shivered. His teeth were clattering, and inside the pockets of his sweater there were only pebbles to scratch at his hand. Shaking, he lifted his hood, fingers now completely numb—when it put it over his head messily, he could see that the sky was significantly brighter. The rain should've stopped by now.

"F-fuck," Bakura declared, just to try talking. He didn't realize that he was actually going to die here, in a corner, with no one knowing and not even someone to laugh as a last sound to his ears. "…Fuck," he repeated, louder. His tongue felt twisted and jumbled and he couldn't understand what he was saying himself. After a third try at speech, he cracked his head against the wall.

Ryou's penny lied near the drain—a rotting, useless cylinder of bronze.

-

It had stopped raining hours ago. Bakura laid there, more unconscious than asleep. He awoke only a few moments later, the glaring sun shinning happily strait into his eyes.

He groaned as he sat up; he ached all over, even his eyes, and without looking into the puddle before him he knew that he didn't exactly look that well either. He can almost hear the gods laughing at him.

"Not funny," he growled—tried to, but no words came out. The gods laughed harder.

A few minutes later, when Bakura's mind cleared, he started to realize that he was a complete idiot.

Whatever chance he might have had with Ryou was surely gone now. He needed to go back, to apologize, and Ryou wouldn't care if he'd done anything wrong just as long as he said sorry for it. Bakura would say sorry and say it a million times over, just to get Ryou to smile.

With some reluctance, he stumbled into a store. It was early in the morning—there was a person with a nametag and uniform, staring at him oddly as they adjusted the displays.

"…May I help you, sir?"

Bakura took a breath. "Which way is the way to Domino High?"

-

Bakura felt bad, not knowing the name of the street Ryou was living in. He merely knew the direction from his school, having been there several times just to admire him through the windows.

Turning left, he could almost see the house. His stomach felt empty and his head felt extremely light, but at least he wasn't shivering. The house came closer and closer into view, and he felt a deep sense of relieve. _Home,_ he thought, knowing that he was wrong but too thankful to dwell on it.

There were a few stares from neighbors, ones that did not recognize him as anyone other than another child off the streets. Bakura ignored them fully because Ryou's house was straight in front of him and all he had to do was take a few more steps.

His head felt lighter and lighter. He started shaking again, and for a moment he stilled. Only a few more steps and he'd be home…

His heart didn't race. He breathed heavily, and his eyes were half lidded even though he wanted to take in the whole sight of the building, of Ryou standing alarmed at the doorway.

He took one more step forward—then he fell.

* * *

Wash me away

* * *

I think the 'fuck' threw everyone off since it came out of no where, but so did the car. This word is my reaction to everything so I couldn't think of a better one for Bakura.

I felt a bit queasy about that "utterly alone" part since I usually don't put it that blunt, so I hope it worked. Probably a bit too dramatic…possibly will change it once I find out how to, unless you're all okay with that.

Sorry if this chapter does really seem to connect—parts of it were from another fic in screen writing that I've never put up due to it not working. I want to use it desperately though, so I tried to put some of it in here.

I hope everyone understood the pseudo cliffhanger.

AND. I know you all think that the title for this chapter is absolutely stupid, so please help me think of a new one.


End file.
